


On A School Bus to Beacon Hills

by Hopeless ships (The_Danish_Biscuit)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Season 3, bus ride, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Danish_Biscuit/pseuds/Hopeless%20ships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A suggestion to what might have been going on in Stiles' head on the trip from the Glen Capri to Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A School Bus to Beacon Hills

Stiles was watching the bland sandy landscape that slithered past the windows of the bus in one non-descriptive blur. His leg was restlessly jumping up and down while his hands flew all over the place trying to find some menial task to occupy themselves with. Lydia was lost in her phone next to him, texting God knows whom and Scott was a goner the moment Allison sat next to him.

There was no one to keep him from thinking.

He hated these moments when he had time to think. When there was nothing to distract him, when he was well and truly lost to his own thoughts. There was so much to think about, the alphas, the Darach, but also Scott and the words he had spoken just hours before, the words that would haunt Stiles to the day he died. And of cause Heather, God heather. A sharp pain twisted through him at the thought of her lying there so pale and cold in the morgue. The last link to the time when his mother had still been alive was now dead and buried.  
He shook his head slightly reprimanding himself as he felt the lump form in his throat. He promised himself he wouldn’t go there. The lingering suffocating guilt was simply too much to let out of its tight confines.

But what he tried the most not to think about, and therefore the thing he thought of the entire time was Derek. Derek, Derek, Derek.  
Stiles hated it. But most of all he hated that he didn’t mind thinking of Derek all the time, that he likes when his mind wandered in one of it many restless jumps to the sour werewolf. Because the thought of him consumed all others leaving his mind almost quiet for a short while.  
Somewhat of a novelty for Stiles whose mind was about as restless as his body.  
But he couldn’t let his thoughts linger on the man, God no he needed to get him out of his head and pronto. Before the little hopeless and desperate crush that was slowly unfolding within him became any worse.

He had ignored it. Back when he first noticed it he had still been lost in everything Lydia, but now looking at the strawberry blond next to him, he felt no romantic notions whatsoever. It scared him that he couldn’t say when Lydia had gone from being the love of his life to now where thoughts of Derek was eating him away in a way the fantasies of Lydia never had.  
He didn’t dare say that one of the reasons for Derek’s name to be on the list over possible candidates for the Darach was that stiles simply couldn’t stop thinking about him and if he had reigned himself in the list would have been of Derek alone, only then it wouldn’t be a list over possible evil guys any more. Oh no, Derek definitely had one particular list all to himself.

He tried to convince himself his fascination of he man was all due to the mystery that surrounded Derek Hale. Because even if he knew Derek better now, knew a little of his story and the way he behaved. Knew that he somehow always tried to do the right thing only in the wrong way, he really didn’t know him all that well. Or that was what he told himself when his mind got little too good at imagining Derek. 

Because he trusted him, but he was still the big bad wolf.

But as much as stiles would love that it was all just him becoming enamored by the mystery and paradox that well and truly was Derek Hale, he also knew he was kidding himself.

In the end stiles was well and truly fucked… only not the kind of fucked he’d like to be.

And no way was he going there with a bus full of werewolves and certainly not with Derek in mind. Absolutely not! Not now at least, perhaps later when he was alone. 

Normally he could push it all down, ignore it until it went away. With everything else it seemed to work. And Scott had needed him, now more than ever it seemed.

Because that’s how he managed lately, he pushed it all away, the guilt, the fear, the sorrow. Well there wasn’t time for any of it. Derek needed his help and so did Scott and when he wasn’t helping them in their werewolfy escapades, he tried to figure out who the Darach was.

Well, stiles just had so much on his plate that he thankfully didn’t have to think very much about himself and why he though of derek so much in ways that had nothing to do with the general supernatural well being of Beacon hills.

He couldn’t mourn Derek when Scott told him he was dead because he was too busy with holding Scott together and try to make him see sense. Not that the idiot listened to him, but he had to try. On the bad day that had nothing to do with werewolves he couldn’t fall apart because his father needed him to at least try to be a well functioning son. And he needed stiles too keep him from the liquor and fried food and to give him something to hold on to after his mother died.

There was always someone who needed Stiles.

Only right now at this moment no one needed him and he left to fell the gut twisting misery of Derek’s supposed death and the euphoric relief that he might be alive. It all clashed in one confusing vortex that made his skin itch and his hart stutter in protest.

Because oh dear lord what would he do if Derek was really dead. He didn’t think he could manage that as well. Just the thought made the seams of stiles protest and stretch beyond their limits, like there was so much Stiles was holding in that just needed to be let out.

“Stiles are you okay?” Scott interrupted Stiles’ descent into the deep dark corners of his mind, leaning slightly over the seat tearing himself way from Allison at the sudden irregular heartbeat of his best friend and the thin cloud of misery that was beginning to drift around his best fried. It reminded him of a day not so long ago when his friend had stood over the body of his old childhood friend. Only this time worse, a much deeper sorrow than the loss of Heather had provoked. A smell Scott had decided did not belong to Stiles.

Stiles took all the chaos and stuffed into its tiny box in his head, turning to face his friend, no brother, thankful for the small reprieve from his thoughts. Scott needed him to be alright and that as enough to close the box. At least for now.

“I’m fine,” he said a smile on his face and a happy note to his voice. Scott smiled and clapped his shoulder as the scent of despair disappeared and they started to talk about everything and nothing over the faded red seat of the school bus. Stiles was just happy the lie had passed undetected. Perhaps the key to being a good liar was simply to lie to yourself as well. Because deep in the corner of his mind, the one Stiles always ignored, he knew. He wasn’t fine at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for Operation positivity over at tumblr where this was originally posted. 
> 
> If interested find me here http://hopeless-ships.tumblr.com/


End file.
